The Best Detention of his Life
by whitetiger91
Summary: Poor Goyle, stuck in detention again. Why? He's not too sure, but its certainly not his fault. Deciding to take his frustration on Crabbe, he never thought it would turn out to be so good.


**The Best Detention of his Life**

"I still don' get it," Gregory mumbled as he fiddled with a thick pair of purple woollen socks, his tongue protruding from between his lips.

His only companion in the room – save for the old house-elf who stood yawning widely as she waited dolefully for the boys to complete this one, simple task – grunted loudly.

"Not… easy…" Vincent muttered. Holding up a pair of worn grey socks, he let out a relieved sigh. "I think I got it, though, mate. I think I got it."

Gregory turned tired, brown eyes to the socks and nodded slowly. Vincent had knotted the socks together in a tight loop so that they could not be separated. Thought it didn't quite look like the sample pair of neatly rolled socks that the old house-elf had requested they make, Gregory was sure they would do.

"Can you show me how to do that?" he asked quickly.

"'Course," Vincent agreed, moving to grab another garment from the large wicker basket on the table.

Unfortunately, he was interrupted by the exasperated, crackly voice of the house-elf. "That's it; I'm retiring for the night. Goodnight."

Both boys looked at each other, bewildered, having forgotten that the elf was even there. When they had first entered the school laundry room, Vincent hadn't realised that the tiny creature was a house-elf, mistaking her instead for a tiny, if rather ugly, first year student. He was used to the Goyles' little elf who wore a simple hessian rug around his wrinkly waste and had assumed all elves had big, blue eyes and not green. Not that any of that mattered, for house-elf or first year, they found it peculiar that she dared speak to them without at least following her words with a small curtsey.

"Oh, and don't you boys even think about slacking off. I'll be sure to check with Mistress McGonagall to make sure you have served your detention through and through."

With a curt nod, the elf turned on her heel and marched out of the room, leaving the boys blinking owlishly at her retreating form. Then, very slowly, they turned back to the baskets of socks in front of them and resumed folding.

"Your fault," Vincent grunted as he matched a yellow sock to a long, spotted green stocking.

He could feel Gregory's eyes on him and looked up to meet his gaze. Gregory was scowling; the skin on his forehead and around his eyes was crinkled, making his brown eyes appear black. His thin lips were parted as if he was going to say something, yet after a few attempts at opening and closing them, no words came out. Instead, the large boy settled for shaking his head roughly.

Vincent put his hands on his hips and nodded furiously. Clearing his throat, he repeated, "It's your fault we're stuck here."

"Is not."

"Is."

"Not."

"Is. You told me to punch him."

"I didn't know Professor… Professor, erm?" Goyle began, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully. Vincent could see the clocks turning in his tiny brain, as his lips tried to form the Professor's name.

"Professor McGonagall?" he supplied, hoping he was right.

Though he had been at Hogwarts for six years now, there were only a handful of professors that he could remember the names of. Usually, he never needed to know who was who, as Malfoy often did the talking and 'networking' as he called it. It was only that McGonagall was the one who gave him and Goyle the most detentions that he even remembered the old bag's name.

"Yeah, Professor McGonagall." Gregory's eyes lit up and he nodded his head happily. Then, seeming to remember what he was saying, he pressed his lips together and frowned. "Well, not my fault anyway."

"Is too."

Picking up the sock form his pile, Gregory threw it at Vincent, "Is not."

The sock hit him in the middle of the forehead before landing on the table. Blinking slowly, he turned to Gregory, ready to mouth off at him. Unfortunately, another sock landed in his open mouth, cutting off any words.

Spitting it out angrily, he saw Gregory grinning from ear to ear. "What you do that for?" he asked angrily, picking up a sock from his own pile.

Gregory simply shrugged and copied Vincent's movements, selecting a rather disgusting yellow-coloured sock with grass stains still embedded in the heel area. Sticking out his tongue in concentration, he threw it just as Vincent threw his own, watching as it just clipped his ear.

Socks of all shapes, sizes and colours soon began to fly across the room. They landed in various places in haphazard piles; some even landed on the lamps hanging overhead. When they eventually ran out of sock ammunition, the boys turned to various undergarments, skirts, ties, trousers and shirts. The uniforms were the hardest to toss, yet they too landed with loud 'thumps' around the room. Grunts of annoyance changed to small chuckles that rang around the room as the boys began to enjoy themselves.

"Ooooooooh."

Poised to throw a blue and bronze striped tie, Gregory cocked his head in Vincent's direction. His friend had emitted a familiar sound; one that he normally reserved for when some unsuspecting person left their desert unattended. He wondered what his friend had found and, more importantly, if there was enough for the both of them.

It was therefore a surprise to see Vincent standing with his jaw ajar holding not a sweet tart or biscuit, but instead a small, black piece of material. Lifting it higher, he spread out the lacy material, revealing it to be something much better than desert.

"Where did you find that?" Gregory asked, involuntarily stepping forward. His eyes ogled the underwear, taking in the thin strips. "I thought they were- they didn't- woah."

"Yeah," Vincent replied, wonderstruck, feeling the soft material between his fingers.

Neither boy had ever seen such a fine piece before. They had heard Malfoy and some of the other boys mentioning that girls wore these things, yet had always assumed they were something they could only find in issues of _Wizard's Wonders_ and _Quidditch Illustrated_. Now it was as though they had hit the jackpot.

"I didn't think they'd be so small," Vincent added. Then, remembering the question Gregory had asked, nodded to a tall wicker basket labelled 'lingerie'. A smaller label was printed above it, yet had faded over the years so that only an 'st' and 'f' could be seen. "It was in there. Dunno what 'lingery' is, but it must be good."

Gregory nodded enthusiastically before his smile faded. Looking hesitantly at the basket then back to Vincent, he asked, "Do you, do you think there's more?"

Vincent stared at him for a moment, thinking carefully. His own wide grin had disappeared, wondering if his friend would have to miss out. Then, slowly, his smile returned.

"Let's look."

Gregory's smile slowly returned as well, as the possibility of finding more treasures like the one Vincent held became apparent. "Ok."

Quickly, both boys dug their hands into the basket greedily, clutching at the folds of material inside with their beefy hands. Making eye contact, they nodded to each other, as though asking if they were ready to reveal their findings.

"Caw!"

"Woah!"

As each boy lifted out their hands, their eyes lit up with excitement at what they held. Pink, purple, red, blue, black; all sorts of bras and underwear were looped around their fingers.

"Millicent's," Vincent said, nodding surely as he held up a lime-green, padded bra.

Gregory held up a spotted purple bra, feeling it between his fingers. "I like this one."

One by one, the boys held up different garments and showed each other. They made a game out of guessing which piece belonged to which student, firmly believing that the lacier the garment, the older the owner was. They promptly ignored the jocks and tight white boring underwear, preferring the smaller, thinner strips of greens and reds they found. Their laughter echoed around the hall, yet neither cared.

"Whose is this?" Gregory asked, holding up a small powder –blue thong. Part of his mind thought that the tiny, sheer piece of lace looked very uncomfortable for someone to wear, but a larger, dominant part didn't care. If it belonged to the girl he hoped it did, well, he wouldn't complain.

Unfortunately, a sharp voice pierced the air, preventing Vincent from answering as he jumped out of his skin.

"What do you boys think you are doing? It is half-past one in the morning and your voices are waking up the castle!"

Bright light filled the room as the dying candle flames flared up. Gregory blinked and shielded his eyes, not having realised that they had been in the room so late. Looking up, he barely made out the pointed, unimpressed face of one of the professors. He had never seen her before, yet she was far too old to be a student.

Vincent recovered first, mumbling a short excuse. "Detention."

"At his hour? More like wandering the castle without permission!" With narrowed eyes, the professor marched up to the boys and fixed them with a piercing stare. "That'll be twenty points apiece from-" looking at the badge on his cloak, she tsked, "-Slytherin. Now off to bed before I make that thirty each."

"Alright," Vincent nodded, shrugging his large shoulders.

"Yes, Madame Pince." The professor eyed him sternly, with one eyebrow raised.

Looking confused, Vincent looked at Gregory and mouthed, "I'm Vinnie?"

Pinching her nose, the professor sighed and pointed to the door. "Out."

Shrugging again, Vincent stumbled towards the open door, still unsure why she was calling him Madame Pince. Gregory made to follow him, but was stopped by the professor's shrill voice.

"And I'll thank you to stay out of staff's property," she said, snatching the blue thong out of Gregory's hand.

Stopping for a moment, he allowed the message to sink in. Staff's property? But sticks didn't wear underwear… did they? Shaking his head, he walked out the door after Vincent, pondering her words. By the time he reached the dungeons and was safely tucked up into his four-poster bed, he still had no clue as to what the professor was talking about. With a wide yawn and his eyes forcing themselves closed, he decided it didn't matter, anyway. He had just had the best detention of his life, and planned on having many more of them if he could.

* * *

 _ **A/N: Everything you recognise belongs to the amazing JK Rowling, and as usual, I will gain no profit from this.**_

 _ **This fic was written for the Bingo Challenge on the Diagon Alley II forum. My prompt for this fic was 'lingerie' (number 66).**_

 _ **Firstly, I apologise for the crudeness/ simple humour used in this. It's not really that funny, I know, but it was the best I could come up with for the prompt. Secondly, thank you to those who read this anyway; I hope it wasn't too much of a waste of your time, and that, although I acknowledge Crabbe and Goyle are more complicated than they appear, you can appreciate that they still are simply beings. Thirdly, as for the plot hole in that the house-elf should've come back to check on them, well... perhaps she was buried in all the clothes the boys chucked about? Or she was just too fed up with them to bother. Up to you what you want to think :)**_


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